Wednesday, September 21, 2011

A waste on so many levels. I have to admit I did cry a little, but then I also cried the other day over a nature show on the migration of the red crab, so...you know. Grain of salt and all that. I did try to read this book like a mythology, but I simply couldn't forget the fact that people out there actually literally believe this stuff. Why would an atheist-Buddhist even read this book, you ask? Curiosity. I want to know what I'm dealing with when I deal with believers. And if the main character and writing level in this book are any indication, I'm dealing with people who have the mentality and emotional maturity of eight year olds. I know it's meant to be a parable, but Mack (who everyone except anyone in this book apparently calls Allen, according to the narrator Willie, who also calls him Mack) is so predictable and child-like he's cringe-worthy. I had this whole analogy worked out comparing the ideas in this book to fruit salad suspended in jello made with fake sweetener, but I'll just let you work that out on your own. Also let me say that if wishes were horses, The Shack would be about a stampede. Finally, in the course of reading I made up a word, and that word is: barf-shit.